Gilded Soul

Chapter 24 Backlash

The weather outside matched Draco’s mood, all somber grays and stormy snow clouds. It had been a hellish few weeks with all the students’ back and classes resuming their normal fluster. It was all made worse by the fact that he rarely saw Harry lately. If he didn’t know better he would say the illusive Gryffindor was avoiding him, but he knew that it was mostly only because his boyfriend was so busy.

Boyfriend.

Is that what Harry was? It made sense in a way that Draco wasn’t sure he was ready to admit. What else would you call a person who you not only slept with every night, but also couldn’t stop thinking about when you were awake? Someone who told you they loved you and did everything within their power to protect you. It must be the correct term, even if Draco was loath to admit it. He had a boyfriend, and his boyfriend was Harry Bloody Potter.

He nearly smacked himself in the forehead for getting into a mess like that. What had happened to merely wanting to make friends with Potter? Even more, what happened to being Potters arch nemesis? That blasted morning Harry saved him from the lake changed everything between them. It was like their carefully constructed dynamic crumbled to tiny pieces that day.

Now they were constantly under scrutiny as rumors flew like owls in the corridors and common rooms about their relationship, a few of them even true. As expected when his housemates weren’t shunning him, they were plying him with scathing remarks. They began calling him things like, ‘Draco Potter’ and ‘Slythendor’, which were at least more creative than ‘blood traitor’. He had even discovered several sets of his uniforms and robes to be transfigured into red and gold instead of his usual Slytherin green and silver. As a couple they were often called ‘Drarry’ or ‘Palfoy’.

Harry had not escaped the ridicule either. Aside from Hermione and Ginny, all of his housemates refused to speak to him and often slagged him off behind his back at every opportunity. Draco had managed to score a detention with McGonagall when he overheard Finnigan badmouthing Harry to Lavender Brown behind one of the Herbology greenhouses and hexed him into oblivion.

Professor McGonagall had been unusually nice to Draco that evening in detention. He had always suspected she had a soft spot for Harry, but he never imagined that he would inherit her unusual kindness by merely defending the Gryffindor’s honor. She did however; make it clear that hexing was not an appropriate response no matter how slanderous the remarks about Harry were. She had put on her best stern McGonagall face for that particular lecture. Funny enough Hermione had a matching look when she gave him the same lecture earlier that day.

The Gryffindor student’s animosity toward Draco he could understand, but he couldn’t fathom how the vile turncoats could be so awful to someone like Harry. Someone who had dedicated his short life to protecting their very lives, and who lost everything he ever loved in the process. People he had called friends were now slandering him, and Harry was still willing to give his life to kill Voldemort and rid the evil from their lives. The person they called a poof would one day make all their lives better.

It angered Draco to no end. Harry however seemed unfazed. He had explained that every year something like this happened. In first year it was the gossip about him being the Boy Who Lived and it had been the first time anyone had seen the boy who embodied the legend they had all grown up with. He said it had been a mixture of awe and disappointment that had greeted him that year, with one student even commenting that they thought he would be taller.

In second year he recounted how everyone was terrified that he was the Heir of Slytherin, made even worse by the parselmouth incident. Third year had him in the center of controversy with the whole dementors and Sirius Black ordeal, which Harry still didn’t like talking about with Draco. Then there was the Tri-Wizard Tournament, which everyone thought he cheated, and then when Diggory turned up dead, it all went south.

Draco had never known how cruel Umbridge had been to him the previous year. Harry had shown him the scars on the back of his hand where the DADA professor had made him do lines. He also had no idea that Centaurs had captured her and took her Merlin knew where. In fact, Harry was full of harrowing tales of daring deeds, that Draco had only heard scarce rumors about, if anything at all. Getting to hear about them in detail directly from Harry Potter himself was something of a childhood fantasy.

He sometimes felt like he was a small boy, listening as his mother regaled the tale of the Boy Who Lived. She had always considered it a bit of a heroic tale, for she had lived in fear of the Dark Lord’s failing sanity, and she always told it to Draco at bedtime in hushed tones, for if his father suspected she was filling their sons head with Gryffindor propaganda, he would punish them both. She always told Draco that she would have done the same as Lily, and would have protected Draco even with her own life if needed.

Now that he was older he knew that things were more complicated and dangerous than any fairytale. Now Harry was suffering another year of torment from his peers, but this time it had to do with him. This time the tale pulled Draco inside of it, making him a central character, and it was one thing to hear stories about these things years later, and quite another to be living smack dab in the middle of one.

Harry wouldn’t say much about the maze, but Draco knew it was important. He was also aware that Harry knew much more about it than he let on. Every time he prodded the Gryffindor for more information though, he was met with shrugs and indifference. The looks of guilt that flickered through his boyfriend’s expressive eyes didn’t escape him, however.

--

Because they rarely saw one another these days, Harry and Draco were reduced to talking and flirting in their shared classes. They had managed to secure seats side by side in every course, made easier by the fact that no one else wanted to sit with either of them.

McGonagall was happy to let them partner up, as she was always happy to see separate houses collaborating and thought it should be done much more often. They had been working in Divination together since the day of the tarot card reading, and Trelawney didn’t seem to notice anything was even different about their seating arrangements. Sometimes Draco even got the impression that she thought Weasley had just changed his hair color.

Normally working together in potions would have posed a problem, as Snape rarely cared what his student’s preferences were, and if he knew about them, did everything he could to thwart them. However Harry and Draco still had a joint potion project to work on, so the Slytherin Head of House couldn’t reasonably separate them. Not that he was above being unreasonable.

Harry and Draco’s blatant flirtations earned them stern glares from Professor Snape, and twice points were taken from not only Gryffindor, but Slytherin as well. This made Draco even less popular with his housemates, but he rarely gave it a second thought.

--

One of the worst parts about being the Hogwarts outcasts was where Quidditch was involved. Draco was relishing the chance to beat his boyfriend to the snitch in the upcoming Gryffindor – Slytherin game, but when the eagerly anticipated game was delayed, both seekers took the brunt of the ill placed blame from their own team. The actual cause, moving the game from its previous place in late January to its new slot in early March, was actually the due to the poor weather. It was so frigid outside, that not even advanced heating spells kept the players warm enough for a decent practice.

It was probably for the best however, for the one practice they did manage to have ended rather awkwardly in the boys changing rooms. Draco caught the furtive and suspicious looks from his fellow students, who were apparently waiting for him to change and leave before any of them would get undressed.

Draco shook his head, grabbed his bag, and still clad in his Quidditch gear he left the changing room, shouting, “Your cocks are safe now, boys,” as he strode confidently back onto the pitch.

“Bloody Slytherin prats,” he mumbled to himself as, despite the chill, he once again took to the air on his broom. He wondered how often Harry had thought that very same thing about him and his friends. Probably fairly often, he decided.

The frigid wind made his cheeks and nose burn almost immediately, but the feel of being in the air was always exhilarating and made up for the fact that his face was soon completely numb. He did a few laps around the pitch then flew toward the castle. From his high perch he could see the shadows of Harry and Dumbledore up in the lofty tower office.

He flew closer and noticed the window was cracked open slightly, so he decided to take a peek. Harry was standing adjacent to the open window, glaring across the room at the headmaster. He had never seen his boyfriend look at the elderly wizard with such belligerent contempt, and was curious as to what had caused it.

“I don’t want to hear another word about it, Harry. Is that understood?” He heard the headmaster shout. He watched as Harry huffed and turned his back on the old man, who in turn moved over to stand directly behind the Gryffindor, a hand placed gently on his shoulder. “You must understand the severity of this. If Draco knew, it could send everything out of balance. Just imagine what would happen if Voldemort got his hands on the Gilded Soul. Just imagine the destruction it would do to all wizarding kind.”

Harry scoffed at that. “Why should I even care about them? They all hate me and spread lies and filth. Maybe they deserve what they get,” he spat.

Dumbledore removed his hand quickly as if physically burned by the anger emanating from the boy. “You don’t mean that, Harry,” he whispered sadly.

Draco could barely make out what Harry said next, but he thought it sounded like, ‘maybe I do’. Whatever he said, it sent Dumbledore into another fury. “You see?” he shouted, “He’s already influencing you, bringing the darkness we are all capable of to the surface.”

Harry looked stricken, and he turned the full force of his anger around on the headmaster. Draco could no longer see his face, but Harry’s power poured through the room like a palpable presence, seeping out the open window and almost knocking Draco from his broom. It was the first time he had ever felt anything so powerful in his whole life, and thought of it all coming off of his Harry made him shiver.

“I am not a child!” Harry screamed, each word punctuated with flares of heat. “Do you really think I am so easily influenced, that I can’t make the decision of who to trust on my own?” He watched the color drain from the headmasters face as Harry continued. “Your as bad as he was at eleven years old, telling me who I should and should not be friends with. Well I’m sick of being everyone’s puppet!”

The power that lashed out from those words sliced through the air like invisible blades. The headmaster staggered briefly before meeting the power flare with one of his own. Though not as powerful as Harry’s, the headmaster focused his wave of heat directly at the Gryffindor, instead of letting it seep through the entire room, and it brought Harry to his knees.

When the headmaster finally spoke again it held both a soothing quality and a menacing authority that Draco had never before associated with the elderly wizard. Draco wondered if Harry had always had such vastly different experiences with his professors than Draco did. “I will not have another Voldemort created within these walls. Do you hear me, Harry?” The boy nodded. “Good. You will not bring up Mr Malfoy again in these lessons and if I see that he has further influenced your dark thoughts then I shall end the lessons all together. Do you understand?” Harry nodded again. “Then you may go.”

The door to the office flew open seemingly of its own accord and Harry strode through it quickly and without another word.

Draco was just about to fly down and meet his Gryffindor inside the castle when he heard Dumbledore speaking in hushed tones with the portraits in his office. “Mr Potter makes a good point, Albus.” Draco heard one of the elderly women say. “The Malfoy boy is putting himself in terrible danger each night and has no idea why,” she continued.

Dumbledore’s gruff voice drifted to the open window. “And what do you think, Dilys, would happen if he knew? If he knew that there might be a way to keep himself and his mother safe? If he survives the third trial I’ll tell him. If he survives the third trial he can be trusted.”

“What I’m more concerned with right now is Harry. Did you feel his power tonight? At only sixteen he is more powerful then even myself. And his mind, Dilys, I looked into his mind and it was so dark and more twisted than I have ever seen it. I’m afraid, Dilys, I’m afraid for all of us.”

Draco tried to hear more, but they either stopped talking, or were speaking so softly that he could no longer hear. He made his way back to the ground, landing less than gracefully than usual. His whole body seemed frozen solid.

In contrast his mind was running like a locomotive. There was some secret about him that Harry knew, and had known for some time it seemed, something that could protect his mother. He never cared much for secrets, let alone dangerous ones involving him. He wondered how long Harry had been keeping him in the dark and suddenly realized the source of that guilty spark he sometimes saw in his boyfriend’s eyes.

Boyfriend. Ha.

If Harry was going to be keeping things from him maybe he wasn’t worth all the trouble Draco was going through with his housemates… and everyone else at the school for that matter.

Then there was the feeling of Harry’s magic pulsing over him like a raging inferno. It was both seductive and frightening. Even Dumbledore was afraid of him, afraid of his Harry.

--

It was late before Draco made his way into the room he shared with Harry. He wasn’t sure how they got away with it, but he supposed it helped when both their heads of house seemed to turn a blind eye. As he stepped through the threshold he heard Harry mutter ‘mischief managed’ and saw him tuck away a yellowed parchment. Another secret.

He walked over and sat in the armchair across from Harry. “What was that?”

Harry looked up with a forced a grin. “Just something the Weasley twins gave me back in third year.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me. Then maybe you can tell me what the Gilded Soul is?”